Beyond the Façade: The Realities of Alzheimer's Caregiving
The Caregiver's Companion: How Journaling Saved My Life and Can Help You Too
Now, as I navigate the challenges of caregiving for my mom with Alzheimer's, I turn to my journal more than ever. Caregiving can be a lonely journey, even with a strong support system. The emotions, fears, and questions that come with it can be overwhelming, and not everyone has access to or feels comfortable with a therapist or counselor. That's where journaling comes in.
I Can't Do This Alone: Why Every Caregiver Needs a Freakin’ Village
When you're an Alzheimer's caregiver, especially for someone with young onset Alzheimer's, it's easy to feel alone in your struggle. But the truth is, you don't have to do this on your own. In this raw and honest post, I share my journey of finding a support village through social media, and how connecting with others who truly understand the unique challenges of caregiving has been a game-changer. If you're feeling isolated and overwhelmed, this post is for you. Discover why every Alzheimer's caregiver needs a fucking village, and how to find yours.
To the Version of Me That Struggled on Mother's Day: Your Feelings Are Valid AF
Mother's Day. A holiday filled with flowers, brunches, and heartfelt cards for many. But for those of us navigating the choppy waters of Alzheimer's with our mom, it has become a day of confronting loss, lowered expectations, and lonely heartache.
Growing Up in Reverse: How Caring for My Mom Made Me a Better Adult
This is hard. It's messy and complicated and it will push you to your limits in ways you never imagined and may not want to admit. But it will also show you what you're made of. It will teach you lessons that you couldn't learn any other way. And it will give you a sense of purpose and meaning that goes beyond anything you ever thought possible.
Hindsight Healing: Making Peace with Mom's Diagnosis and My Own Expectations
When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, it was like my whole world tilted on its axis. Suddenly, all the little things that I'd brushed off or explained away over the years started to make a sick kind of sense. The forgotten birthdays, the repeated stories, the times she'd call me manic about things that were so small they shouldn’t typically have such an intense impact on people - it all clicked into place like some twisted puzzle I never wanted to solve.
I'm Not the Friend I Used to Be: How Caregiving Changed My Relationships
I'm not gonna lie; I've felt pretty isolated from my friends since my mom's diagnosis. It's hard to relate to their everyday drama and life experiences when I'm dealing with my mom forgetting who I am, trying to break out of my home, and yelling that her daughter is missing. And if I'm being brutally honest, sometimes I catch myself avoiding certain people because I'm straight-up jealous of their relationship with their mom.
Selfish? More Like Self-Preservation: Embracing Self-Care as a Caregiver
I used to think that being a good caregiver meant running myself into the ground. I thought that if I wasn't completely exhausted physically, spiritually, and emotionally, then I wasn't doing enough for my mom or it meant that I was probably caregiving the wrong way if I had any semblance of peace. But you know what? That's just a one-way ticket to Resentment City, population: me.
When The Storms of Life Have You Feeling Isolated
As an ambivert who cherishes solitude and finds solace in quiet moments, I initially thought I would thrive in this new reality. I eagerly anticipated the opportunity to embrace the introvert within me, believing that the isolation would be a welcome respite from the demands of social interaction. However, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I found myself grappling with a tempest of emotions I never saw coming.
I’ve HAD IT: Choosing Rest Over Wrecked
I've been running on fucking fumes, my tank so far past empty that I'm basically running on the memory of gas. Work's been bleeding me dry, leaving me a hollow, lifeless husk by the time I drag my sorry ass through the front door. The moment my body collapses onto the couch, I can feel the exhaustion seeping into my goddamn bones. It's like my brain is screaming, "I can't take this shit anymore!" in a language only I can understand.